


Snakes and Ladders

by lucymonster



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Ass to Mouth, Blackmail, F/M, Gang Rape, Painful Sex, Public Use, Raped In Every Hole, Stealth Public Rape, Unaroused Victim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-19 18:31:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19362223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: Caught stealing from her employer, Nastya agrees to a blowjob in exchange for his silence. Only a blowjob.That's how it starts.





	Snakes and Ladders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaltCastle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltCastle/gifts).



She’s waiting for it to stop feeling real.

That’s how it’s supposed to work when something traumatic happens. Nastya has read it in countless books: the world’s supposed to blur and spin, her soul is supposed to detach from her body and float somewhere safe and untouched overhead. She’s supposed to go numb, but so far only her feet have got the memo. They’re tucked beneath her as she kneels in the cramped space under the desk and hopes like hell that her toes aren’t poking out into view. She’s kneeling, and her knees and neck hurt, and the eminent Dr Jonathan Hargrave – socialite, philanthropist, CEO of the Mercy Foundation but-please-just-call-me-Johnny – is unzipping the fly of his impeccably tailored suit so he can force his cock into her mouth.

‘There we go,’ he says, knotting one of his hands in her hair and easing the sweat-sour head past her lips. ‘You’ve made the right decision, Nastya. This is much better than prison, isn’t it? Be a good girl and keep those teeth out of the way.’

Her jaw strains around his girth. There’s precome already beading at the tip, and it makes her sick to taste his salt on her tongue and to know how much pleasure he’s getting from her misery. He’s not wrong – this is the right decision. It’s the _only_ decision. The law won’t care about the caveats and explanations that come with her unapproved company card expenses. On the vanishing off-chance they don’t convict her, she’ll never work again. She’ll forever be the bitch who used her PA’s position of access to defraud a respected charity.

Blinking back tears, Nastya sucks Johnny down. She tries to use her tongue to direct him sideways into her cheek, but he pulls her head down and forces himself deep into her throat. He holds her there while she gags and swallows frantically, then uses his handful of hair to start bobbing her up and down on his shaft. Her tonsils hurt. Her throat and stomach spasm with each thrust. She can’t detach, she can’t drift off. Her whole world is the burn of her shame and the cock that’s violating her mouth.

She’s gasping for air when he finally pulls her off him, flinching in revulsion as he ejaculates all over her face. Hot semen splashes her cheeks and dribbles down her chin. He holds her there as he uses his free hand to tease out every last drop. It’s disgusting – but it’s over. She’s given him what he wanted. Her secret is safe. She’s well aware he’ll likely make her repeat the ordeal to keep it that way, but if this is as bad as it gets, then it’s immeasurably better than the alternative.

He doesn’t make any room for her to climb out from beneath the desk.

‘I’ve got a meeting with Don from finance about five minutes,’ Johnny tells her, withdrawing both his hands but not re-fastening his fly. ‘If you can get me hard again and get me off while he’s in here, we’ll call it a wrap for today.’ He’s using the same cheerfully confident, self-assured tone he adopts for company updates. ‘But if I’m still horny when he leaves, we might have to consider other options.’

It’s not over. Of course it’s not over. Nastya never thought her purchases would matter, given they were such a tiny drop in the Mercy Foundation’s vast ocean of funds. A coffee here, a pastry there, a nice lunch for herself while Johnny was out courting donors with five-star fare and top-shelf liquor. A proper lady’s handbag to replace her old college satchel, and an evening gown so she wouldn’t embarrass the Foundation at events – shouldn’t those count as valid work expenses? Yes, the gown was Vera Wang, but there’s no one else in the office who would dream of showing up to a fundraiser in some no-name dress from off the rack. Nastya wasn’t trying to get ahead. She was trying to keep up. And now, while half the office still only know her as ‘the new assistant’, while she’s still getting the hang of their CRM software and learning how to use the printer, the CEO is threatening to brand her as some kind of slick white-collar criminal.

As she puts her mouth back on Johnny’s softened cock, he reaches under the desk and shoves his hand down her blouse. Peeling aside the lace of her bra cup, he finds her nipple and pinches hard. ‘Shh,’ he says in answer to her involuntary yelp. ‘Don’s on his way down the hall right now. You don’t want him to know you’re under there, do you?’

She doesn’t. Oh, she doesn’t.

Nastya’s one small source of relief is that once Don arrives, Johnny withdraws his touch so he can rest both hands on the desk and look normal. Everything else is unrelentingly awful. She hardly dares to move, hardly even dares to breathe as Don drones on about investment returns and shareholder dividends. She’s terrified of slurping or gagging or doing something else to betray her presence. But Johnny’s getting hard again, and if she doesn’t manage to finish him off, he’s going to _explore other options_ as soon as Don leaves. Presumably that means bending her over his desk and fucking her. The thought makes her so sick that she can hardly keep his cock down her throat. She’s fighting her gag reflex, fighting her aching jaw, fighting her desire to scream.

But she makes it through. Nastya has always been resourceful, and with the desperate goal of preserving her last shreds of bodily integrity and keeping him out from between her legs, she finds a way to rub him with her tongue that does the job without making too much sound. As Don shuts the door behind him, Johnny comes again and spills bitter seed down Nastya’s throat. She’s retching when he lets her pull away. His taste clings to the back of her mouth, and the stench of sex fills her nostrils as his semen from the last round dries on her cheeks.

‘Good work, Nastya,’ Johnny says. He smiles the dazzling white-toothed smile so beloved of the city’s social pages. ‘You’re showing a lot of promise. I think you’re going to have the hang of your new duties in no time.’

* * *

Don passes through the print room while she’s stapling agendas for the weekly comms meeting. ‘You okay, Nadia?’ he asks her, with an odd glance up and down her body. 

‘It’s Nastya.’ She’s not looking her best: Johnny popped one of her blouse buttons when he was groping her breasts, and she had to use the ladies’ room sink to wash dried come out of her hair, and her makeup of course is a total write-off. But she doesn’t care. Finally, the numbness she so badly wanted during the ordeal is sinking in, and the office around her feels like an impersonal dreamscape. Stapling agendas is about all she’s good for right now.

‘Sorry, of course. Nastya. These Russian names, can’t keep ‘em straight.’ He leans against the printer and studies her more closely. She remembers the sound of his voice this morning as she sucked Johnny off beneath the desk, and finds that she can’t meet his gaze. ‘You look pale, though. Seriously. I’m asking if you’re okay.’

‘I’m fine, thank you.’

‘Good. Because if you’re getting sick, you want to keep those germs to yourself. Can’t go swapping body fluids with the boss and risk infecting the whole office.’

Like a sharp jab from a seamstress’s pin, the words pierce Nastya’s bubble of numbness. Her body freezes without her assent. If her face was pale before, then right now it must be turning dark red.

Don knows. Maybe he saw her through the inch or two of space between the desk and the floor. Maybe he heard her slurping on Johnny’s cock. Maybe there was a window or reflective surface Nastya didn’t see before. But oh god, he knows.

‘Hey, don’t freak out on me, it’s fine.’ Don steps closer and tilts her chin up, and she finds herself staring stricken into a pair of cold dark eyes and a deceptively warm, friendly smile. ‘I understand. You’re fresh out of college, standing at the bottom of the ladder and wondering how the hell you’re going to climb all that way to the top. Sweetening the deal for Johnny, that’s as good a way as any to boost yourself up.’ He scratches his chin, feigning deep thought. ‘Of course, I don’t know if the rest of the office would see it as liberally as I do. It’d be an awful shame if the news got out.’

Nastya isn’t boosting herself anywhere – she’s hanging on to the edge of a cliff, clinging to whatever might save her from falling. Don looks perfectly kind and perfectly accepting, and she knows deep in her gut that it’s an act. She can’t tell him he’s got it wrong. She can’t tell him anything. He’s standing far too close, and she knows exactly what he’s about to ask for and it’s more than her whole career’s worth to tell him no.

So she does the only thing that offers her even the flimsiest semblance of control. ‘Johnny and I have a private arrangement,’ she tells him. Not technically a lie. The arrangement is _be my personal whore from today onwards and I’ll abstain from destroying your entire life_. ‘I’d rather it stayed private, and I’m sure Johnny feels the same. But I’m willing to consider your price for discretion.’ Even hearing the words aloud in her own voice, she can’t believe she’s actually saying them. This isn’t her. This can’t be real. When she woke up this morning, she never dreamed in a million years that not one but two of her respected senior colleagues would be blackmailing her for sex.

Over a dress. A fucking _dress_ , and a few coffees, and that time or two she took a taxi home instead of fighting the public transport crowds. The injustice of it is almost as bad as the dread of what’s about to happen.

‘You’re a smart girl,’ says Don, still with that awful hollow smile. She’s backed right against the printing table, and he’s standing so close that she can smell the smoke and coffee on his breath.‘But a go-getter like you should be practicing her own sales pitch, not waiting for someone else to do the leg work. So come on, take charge. Tell me what you’d like to bring to our new partnership.’

‘I’ll suck you off,’ says Nastya, in a voice that aims for sultry but ends up thin and desperate. ‘We can go to your office right now, and I’ll … I’ll let you fuck my mouth, and I’ll swallow when you finish.’

‘You like swallowing, do you?’

‘I love it,’ Nastya lies through her teeth.

‘Hmm.’ Don makes a show of weighing up her offer. His hand travels from her chin down her front, leaving disgusted goosebumps on her skin as he feels her breasts through her blouse one after the other. ‘I like the sound of that. But you know, my office is a long way away. I’d rather stay right where we are. Are you comfortable with that?’

No. No, she is absolutely not comfortable with that. Nastya’s mind swims with nightmare visions of her other colleagues walking in, seeing her on her knees for the sleazy head of finance, cracking open the disastrous secret that she’s enduring all this horrible abuse to try and hide. But Don’s question isn’t an earnest one. What he means is, _This is what’s happening whether you like it or not._ What he means is, _Kneel down and suck me or the whole deal’s off._

His breath is hot on her face. He’s pressed against her now, and she can feel the nauseating bulge of his erection through his trousers. ‘I’d better at least shut the–’

‘Door? Don’t worry about it. No one will interrupt us.’

‘But–’

‘I said,’ says Don, ‘don’t worry about it.’

And then before she can do anything, he grabs her by the shoulders and spins her around. ‘Hey!’ she yelps, as he forces her face down so that she’s bent over the printing table. ‘This isn’t what I–’

‘Shh,’ says Don, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. ‘Keep it nice and quiet, now. Someone might come to investigate if you make too much noise. And then you’ll have agreed to this for nothing, won’t you? Your secret will be out.’

‘But you promised–’

‘Think of this as a lesson in doing business, Nadia. You have to work to maintain your client’s attention. If you don’t keep the deal sweet enough, sometimes things won’t go your way.’ He gives her suit skirt a tug, and when it doesn’t come down, he instead lifts it up and bunches the fabric around her waist. Holding her down with one hand, he rubs her ass with the other and gives each buttock a sharp, cruel slap. ‘Now. Since oral sex is off the table, how do you want this? Should I fuck your pussy or your tight little ass?’

Panic rises in Nastya’s chest. She’s never let anyone penetrate her ass, never so much as experimented with one of her own fingers. She’s heard nightmare stories of how much it can hurt, and the thought of having it done to her is so frightening and humiliating that she thinks she’d rather flee and let Johnny’s lawyers do their worst. ‘Fuck my pussy,’ she says, and is disgusted to hear the words emerging as a terrified sob. ‘Please don’t – I mean, please, fuck my pussy.’

‘If you insist,’ says Don. Still pushing her head down onto the tabletop, he uses his free hand to tug aside her panties and expose her cunt to the open air. He parts her folds with one coarse finger, stroking along the length, and she shudders and has to bite back a revolted whimper. Then he unzips his fly, spits on his hand, and shoves his barely-lubed cock inside her to the hilt.

It hurts. Her body isn’t ready – she’s clenching up, trying in vain to keep him out – and the penetration feels like being split open by pure brute force. She’s reeling as he starts to thrust, biting her lip to keep from crying out. He pounds her down into the surface of the table, hard and fast and brutal, but then slows down just as she’s comforting herself through the onslaught that at least he’ll finish quickly at this rate. He works in bursts. Fucks her bruisingly hard, then slows back down, then picks up force again. 

‘Spread your legs wider,’ he says, and kicks them apart from behind before she even has a chance to comply. This forces her up on her tip-toes, clinging to the table, jolting hard and unable to brace. Each thrust now hits her at a gut-deep angle and she can’t keep quiet, she’s crying aloud as he takes what he wants from her helpless body. 

After a while he sighs and slows down for a longer break, pulling all the way out so that she feels every inch of him as he slides languorously back in. It’s not a reprieve, not really – the pause in violence allows time for a fresh wave of shame and disgust and despair to wash over Nastya through her shock. ‘Mm, this is good,’ says Don, balls slapping her cunt as he sheathes himself all the way and holds there for a moment. ‘How do you like my nice fat cock inside you? Am I better than Johnny? You can tell me the truth.’

The tabletop is wet with drool and tears. Nastya’s shaking on the hard wooden surface, to overwhelmed to care how the edge of it cuts into the front of her hips.

No one has come in yet. She no longer knows if that’s good or not – at least if someone walked in and found them, maybe Don would have to stop his onslaught for a while.

‘I asked,’ says Don, in a falsely patient voice, ‘how you like my cock inside you. You can feel this, right? I don’t have to go harder for you?’

‘I can feel it,’ Nastya gasps, as his grip on her pelvis tightens in warning. She has no idea what he wants her to say. She can’t think. Can’t focus. He’s still buried deep inside her, splitting her soft, battered body wide open.

‘I don’t know, Nadia. You still seem out of it. If you’re not enjoying your half of our deal, I can always spice things up for you a little.’ He pulls out. Nastya enjoys one fleeting moment’s emptiness before a jolt of sick fear freezes her in place as he repositions his cock against her asshole.

‘No.’ The word comes out rasping and weak. ‘No, please, don’t. You promised–’

‘I promised to keep your secret,’ Don says smugly. The pressure from his cock increases, pushing just the barest half-inch inside her, and Nastya’s sure she’s about to throw up. ‘And then you begged me to fuck your pussy for you, so I did. But I never promised that was all I’d do. I’ve given you yours, so now it’s only fair that I get mine.’

‘No, _please_ –’ The word ascends into a shriek as Don pushes in properly, burying his cock inside her ass with a thrust that sends searing pain up her spine. Nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s an impossibly deep violation, a burning pain that tears through her guts and makes her howl with every thrust. He’s saying something, shushing her again perhaps, but Nastya is past the point of being able to control herself. She sobs wretchedly, clawing at the table and struggling in his grip, but Don pins her with all his weight to the table and hangs onto her hips and plunges in and out of her ass with relentless force.

It feels like it’s never going to stop. He fucks her until she gives up on struggling, too shocked and exhausted to keep up the fight for long. He fucks her ass as deep has he can and each thrust splits her open all over again, plundering her most shameful, secret place as his rancid breathing reaches a crescendo by her ear. 

This time, when he pulls out, she knows better than to hope for a reprieve. She’s boneless when he pulls her off the desk, collapsing onto her knees in front of him. ‘I like to keep things clean,’ Don says, and grabs a fistful of her hair. ‘You want to finish me off with your mouth?’

She’s too far gone to even care how utterly revolting it is. In all her life, Nastya has never felt less like a person, and she barely even flinches when Don spills his filthy cock down her throat with a grunt of satisfaction.

* * *

She spends the rest of her workday sitting like a statue at her desk, clicking between emails at random and trying her hardest not to shake or cry.

Everything hurts. Her ass is on fire, her pussy feels bruised and swollen, and her throat is so raw that it hurts to swallow. Most of all, she feels humiliated. In the back of her mind, Nastya always knew that her corporate card spending could get her in trouble. She’d been willing to risk a reprimand if they ever checked her accounting history. But nothing she did – nothing she’s done in her _life_ – makes what they’re doing to her now okay. She should never have agreed to what Johnny wanted. She should have run to the police the moment he made her the offer, and prayed that youth and inexperience would work in her favour when he countered her harassment case with embezzlement charges.

She could risk prison and public disgrace and an irreparably ruined career. Or she could endure another rape from one of the monstrous men who call themselves part of the Mercy Foundation. At this point, she doesn’t know which prospect is worse.

Paralysed by indecision and fear, she stays put at her desk.

The office goes quiet as people start to leave for the day. She watches them trickle past in ones and twos and threes, chatting freely about donors and dinner plans and other things Nastya can hardly imagine caring about. She clicks through a few more emails without reading them. As PA, her own hours don’t end until Johnny leaves, and she can’t decide if his firmly closed door is a blessing or a curse. Part of her is sure he’s going to call her back in for one last humiliation before letting her go home to lick her wounds.

But finally, Johnny emerges with his briefcase and announces in a jovial voice that they’re all making him look bad by working so hard. ‘Go home and relax,’ he says, clapping an accountant on the back and dazzling the HR manager with his brightest smile. ‘You’ve all done great work today. I’ll see you in the morning.’ There’s a heart-stopping moment when he pauses outside Nastya’s cubicle, leaning over the partition, so close that she can feel his breath on the side of her face. ‘You especially, Nastya. You’re too new to be working overtime. If you don’t set firm boundaries right from the start, who knows what your work-life balance could end up looking like?’

Then he squeezes her shoulder, and leaves.

Nastya breathes out.

As she’s shutting down her computer for the day, she hears the shuffle of feet and another voice from over the cubicle partition. ‘Nastya, right?’ says a voice she knows vaguely as one of the younger men from the comms team. ‘I’m Ethan. Sorry we haven’t had a chance to meet yet – my whole team’s been busy with this latest pledge drive. But a few of us are heading out for drinks tonight, and we thought maybe you might be free to come along. Get to know you colleagues a bit without old Johnny breathing down our necks.’

He sounds friendly, but Nastya has nothing left in her for social sensitivity. Her panties are chafing her overused cunt and all she wants is to go home and cry, so her refusal comes out blunt and abrupt. ‘I can’t tonight.’

‘Huh.’ Ethan doesn’t look offended – he looks puzzled, like her answer is one he couldn’t possibly have anticipated. ‘That’s odd. I thought you were really keen to get to know people around the office. At least, that’s what it looked like on the print room surveillance footage.’

To a younger, more innocent Nastya – the one who came into the office this morning, say – his meaning might have been opaque. But it’s not like that any more. She knows better. ‘Please,’ she says in a strangled whisper. ‘Please, no. Not tonight. Just let me go home.’

‘I don’t know about that. See, the boys and I got all excited, earlier, when we saw you getting on so well with Don. We’ve been looking forward to getting to know you. I suppose if you really don’t have time for us, we can amuse ourselves by posting some of that footage up online so we’ve got something to chat about with other viewers. It’s good stuff – I’m sure we’d get loads of clicks.’

‘Please,’ Nastya chokes. She has nothing else left to give.

But they take it from her anyway. They were always going to. There never was a choice.

For the next few hours that feel like aeons, the world descends into waking nightmare. They rape her three at a time, plunging their cocks into her mouth and ass and cunt until she’s too full to scream or even breathe. She loses track of who fucks her where and who comes back for more – she knows Ethan comes in for a couple of rounds, pounding her ass with jackhammer force while one of his comms friends fucks her pussy and twists her breasts. They pass her around, bend her over the desk, contort her body into pretzels and fuck her from every angle they can reach. They pull out their phones to document how she gags on their cocks and how her asshole stretches wide around each intrusion. They share beers from the office fridge, and someone decides it’s funny to fuck her with a bottle while the rest of them jeer.

She’s nothing. Just a set of holes for them to use, a warm body they can plunder as they laugh and joke and blow off steam at the end of the day.

It feels like it’s never going to stop. But at long last everyone has taken their fill, and Nastya finds herself dropped in an aching, sticky pile on the ground as her rapists pack up for the day and discuss what they’re going to do with the extra footage they’ve just taken.

‘I’ll send the files around to everyone,’ Ethan promises the group. ‘But remember – not one photo from tonight goes online.’ He grins down at Nastya. ‘Otherwise, what incentive is our pretty little PA going to have to play nice with us? I’m sure she doesn’t want all these videos to show up on the internet. And I’m sure she’ll be happy to show us her gratitude for as long as we keep her secret safe.’

Utterly spent, too weak to protest, Nastya puts her head down on the office floor and sobs.

‘Don’t be like that,’ says Ethan, crouching down to her level. He cups her sloppy pussy, pinching her clit and pumping two fingers in and out of her a couple of times. It feels like nothing after all the cock she’s taken. ‘This is a great career move for you, Nastya. We’re all really excited to have you on the team. And we’re looking forward to working with you very closely from now on.’


End file.
